


Living on a fault line

by Kendrene



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Fingering, BDSM, Breathplay, Degradation, F/F, Face Slapping, Knotting, Mating Bites, Mildly Dubious Consent, Red Kryptonite Kara Danvers, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:33:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23160268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kendrene/pseuds/Kendrene
Summary: Lene wakes up on Earth Prime to find that the reality she's used to was turned over on its head.Lex is good - and he's in charge - and Kara... Kara's evil.
Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor
Comments: 68
Kudos: 1050





	Living on a fault line

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: this took a darker turn than what I'd initially anticipated - and thus, it may not be for anyone. I've taken pains to establish consent here - but still slapped a dub-con tag on the story for the people who may want to avoid rougher stuff.
> 
> If you proceed past the author note, it will be entirely on you. I can add more tags if asked (politely), but I will not stand for any sort of abuse. 
> 
> For those of you who want to read further, I can leave off as it is, or write more for this universe. You pick. 
> 
> Hope you will enjoy.
> 
> \- Dren

Lena walks in a permanent fugue state through a world that is and isn’t hers. 

Earth-Prime is, in some respects, eerily similar to old, gone Earth-38 - sometimes even the same. Noonan’s is still there, but doesn’t carry old-fashioned donuts any more. They were the kind Kara always saved for Lena when she brought a box into the office, knowing they were the only ones she’d eat. 

Her office on L-Corp’s top floor, on the other hand, is exactly as it was on the old Earth, but Jess’s eyes are grey on this new world, not brown, and she’s just come back from her maternity leave - a fact Lena discovers when her secretary thanks her for the oversized teddy bear she apparently sent her for the child. 

Lena’s mouth is frozen into a smile of circumstance for the entire conversation, but inwardly she feels awkward. Inwardly, she’s desperate to find a moment of quiet and get her bearings. 

The things that have remained the same - like the clothes inside her walk-in wardrobe - are anchor points she uses as a tether, coordinates that help her navigate these new, uncharted waters.

What solace Lena finds in the fact that her tastes seem to match across all universes is obscured the moment she sets foot inside the D.E.O. 

Here, some things are different, too. The guards’ uniforms and insignia to begin with, and the color of Vasquez’s hair. The most shocking thing of all is to find Lex alive and well, and genuinely _smiling_ at her when she reaches the command center in search of Alex and J’onn.

“You’re late.” He leads her toward Alex by one elbow. “I was starting to get worried. As you can see-” He gestures to the monitors where a D.E.O. team is shown surrounding a rundown building. “We have a bit of an emergency.” 

“You’re…” _Alive_. Working with the good guys? “...well.” 

Lex blinks at her and frowns. “Of course I am. Are you, though?” He hasn’t looked this way at her since the times he let her hide inside his room during their childhood - when their parents’ fights became too frequent and too loud. 

“I’m-” Lost. Not fine. A _murderer_ . She wants to tell him all these things, but says none of them instead. “Obviously worried about _that_ ,” Lena salvages somehow, tilting her chin at the screen. “What’s going on?” 

With everything lacking sense around her, Lena clings to what she knows. She’s a fixer, a crisis-dealer, one that blossoms under pressure. And, as Alex and Lex take turns laying the problem at her feet - rogue government agents contrabanding alien weapons with the Russians - she discovers that this version of her brother is scarily easy to work with. He’s likeable, charismatic, and in his eyes, she sees the brother who would read her bedtime stories after lights-out. The same one who taught her how to ride a bicycle and would lead her pony by its reins for hours, if just to see her smile.

Lena wants to believe that this is real - that the version of Lex left after the merge is truly good - but she doesn’t dare to. 

“...so we’ve tailed them to this building and surrounded it, but we don’t have any intel on their firepower, and I’d rather not risk anyone’s neck until we do,” Alex concludes, and looks to her expectantly. “Any ideas?” 

Lena looks from her to Lex several times, before finally asking them the obvious question. 

“Why haven’t you called Supergirl?” 

**************************

_Why haven’t you called Supergirl?_

Such a simple question, which should have had, for all intents and purposes, an answer equally as simple. 

But nothing is simple or predictable anymore, and everything’s a shock. 

She’d hastily classified Lex being alive as the worst thing she would face, and had been proven wrong so thoroughly. 

Back on Earth-38, Supergirl is gone, and here, she never even existed. In her place sits a terrible despot, a spiteful god who has discovered how easy it is to keep people underfoot. Lena can scarcely process it all, but she was shown the footage. The awfully personal war this woman who is Kara - and yet isn’t - waged against the D.E.O. 

From the view atop her balcony, there’s no way she can ignore the end result. The part of National City the tyrant calls her own is a dark spot on the horizon. A mass of broken buildings and crumbling ruins that authorities closed off and resigned themselves to classify as lost. 

Lena’s seen the videos, but if life taught her one thing, it’s how easy it is to doctor seemingly solid proof. Heading to her desk, she switches on her laptop, and pulls up every media source that she can think of, browsing back in time as far as she is able. 

The headlines that she finds drive the point home. 

When her eyes begin to burn, from exhaustion and tears Lena refuses to let fall, she shuts the laptop off and moves into the kitchen.

It’s baffling, really, how similar the apartment is to her old one, how negligible the differences. Things Lena hadn’t really made note of until now, that all of a sudden she struggles to ignore. They tug ceaselessly at her, making her restless and on edge. In the kitchen, the marble of the counter is dark grey, and the wine glasses in the cupboard are made of Italian crystal instead of Bohemian, but everything still bears enough familiarity to the world she left behind that it would be the easiest thing to allow herself to fit seamlessly into this one. 

At the price of her old memories, of giving up for good the world where she learned what friendship really looked like. The pain of Kara’s betrayal feels like a pale, inconsequential thing, where before it had seemed insurmountable - because deep down, Lena had thought about forgiveness, and had just been too prideful to take that one first step. 

Any chance of that is gone now, along with Kara. 

With a defeated sigh, Lena pulls open the fridge - alcohol isn’t the solution, but it’ll dull the ache a little. Enough to grant her a few hours of sleep, if she’s lucky. 

On the well-stocked shelves, she’s met with another disappointment. There’s bottle upon bottle of white wine - pinot gris and chardonnay, gewurztraminer and sauvignon - but not a trace of her favorite red. 

Soul-weary and leaden-limbed, Lena shuts the door, and ambles to her bedroom. All of the changes, it seems, are for the worse. 

**************************

Lena spends her days working with her brother, and her nights in search of answers. No matter how deeply she digs, she can’t find the barest trace of _Project Non Nocere_ , but instead of being reassured, she considers it troubling. Perhaps this version of Lex is really everything he could have been and wasn’t on her Earth, but Lena’s been deceived too many times to readily believe it. 

Worse still, despite venturing inside the cordoned-off part of the city almost every night, she’s not able to track Kara down. 

In the end, it is her prey-turned-hunter who finds her. 

Lena is, yet again, returning from a late-night excursion, dead on her feet and heavy-hearted. A sudden downpour caught her unprepared, slicking her hair into wet ropes. She is soaked through to the bone and shivery. Trailing raindrops on the expensive persian carpet in her living room, and craves only her bed.

It’s in the deep shadows by the windowsill she spots her, when lightning bisects the sky for a split second. She’s leaning back against the wall, gaze lost somewhere in the night beyond the glass. 

Her lips are stretched into the parody of a smile, and as the front door clicks shut at Lena’s back, she feels kinship with a mouse about to be devoured. 

Lighting flashes once more, searing white and unforgiving, dogged by a rumble of thunder so loud the windows rattle. After that, more rain drives against the panes, pushed by the wind, and the sound blots out all of her thoughts. 

When she can think again, Lena takes a hesitant step forward. 

“Kara?” Her voice almost breaks over the name. 

The stranger by the window turns slowly toward her. Lena wants to take the word back; she wants to run and hide. 

She wants to close her eyes and will this all away. 

She’d clung to the frayed hope Alex and her brother were mistaken. It could not be, what they were saying, it surely was a cruel joke of cosmic-wide proportions. 

Confronted with the baleful visage, and the veins of lambent red slithering across it, Lena has no choice but to admit the truth. 

The paragon of hope has been replaced, and the harbinger of despair is standing in her living room. 

“Kara?” She doesn’t want to try again, but needs to, if only to make sure.

“Who’s Kara?” 

The tone is mocking, and Lena feels as though the ghosts of those who burned on Krypton speak in unison through Kara’s mouth. She can see them, almost - smouldering after images, soot-fingered and corpse-like, reaching across time and dimensions into this one through their avatar. 

Ashen-faced and ashen-eyed, Kara smiles again, and it is frightening. 

“Who is Kara?” she repeats, moving across the room so fast all the warning Lena has is a flutter of her cape. There’s a whisper of the straight razor strop inside her voice, a rasp that’s rough and menacing. And her breath, as it spills on Lena’s cheek, is all slaughterhouse and fear. 

“No one.” Just a friend. 

“Hhhmm.” 

Kara is frighteningly close now, but she does nothing to fill what gap remains between them. Instead, she observes Lena with intent, lips pursed and nostrils flaring, head tilted to the side with a display of the mannerisms her own Kara had. Lena can barely deal with it. She is transformed into a specimen under the fires burning inside those eyes. Weighted and measured and appraised. Whether she will be found lacking, remains to be seen. 

Lena uses this small window of opportunity for some studying of her own. 

This world’s Kara wears a suit as well, but hers is different, meant to incite terror within the hearts of those who see it, rather than hope. It’s charcoal black, form-fitting leather, and the sigil of the House of El is nothing but a raised silhouette, cracked through the middle. 

What Lena mistook for a cape is a trench coat the color of dried blood. It flows like so much water around Kara when she moves, and against her better judgement, Lena is fascinated with the technology behind it. 

Suspicions that had almost been snuffed out by fruitless search reignite, and she wonders whether someone is behind this. Maybe the transmutation of hope into despair is not natural to this merged dimension, but engineered. 

“So I heard you’ve been looking for me.” She’s grinning, but the smile doesn’t reach her eyes. 

“I… How would you know?” 

“I have my ways.” 

The grin broadens.

”Well, here I am.” The cutting smirk turns into a laugh, as sharp as the ones Lillian always had for her. Kara pirouettes, arms outstretched and head thrown back, and the laugh grows wilder and more shrill. The shriek of a banshee out for blood. 

There she is, and Lena can’t pretend she’s dreaming any longer. 

Abruptly, Kara stops and fixes Lena to the spot with a fierce scowl. 

“What do you want?” 

Lena sighs, and rubs her brow with the back of her hand. Now, that’s a good question. In part, she wanted to see, to validate the word of a brother she still struggles to trust. In part, it was hope that drove her on - the absolute certainty that what has gone askew inside this universe can still be righted. 

Her confidence begins to crumble.

So, instead of answering, she talks of the Kara she remembers from her world. The Kara that would help old ladies cross the road, who always had spare change for the homeless that found shelter in the metro when it rained. The Kara who cried during movies and protected the city night after night after night. 

The Kara who mangled her heart so badly with betrayal, whom she terribly misses now that she is gone. 

She summarizes the life she and Kara had on Earth-38 the best she can. The last bit, however, Lena admits only to herself. In the end, she tapers off, dry-mouthed and spent.

“You aren’t answering my question,” Kara retorts, with a bored look. “But let me take an educated guess. You want to _fix_ me, because you hope that under this...” she runs a finger over the red veins marbling her skin. “You hope this Kara you’ve been blabbering about somehow still exists.”

She lets her hand fall and laughs again. The sound is mocking still, but edged with a more somber note. “You still hate her, so you’re not sure you really want to help. And you want to believe that Lex is good, contrary to the one you admit to having murdered in cold blood, but that may mean accepting that I’m not.” 

Kara circles around her as she speaks, a shark closing in on a helpless, drowning castaway. Everytime she disappears behind her back, Lena involuntarily shivers. There’s something violently arousing in the way Kara moves, her natural shyness stripped away by the red kryptonite. 

Lena would like to deny it, but the warmth between her legs speaks volumes about the state her body’s in. 

“I’ll make things easier for you.” Kara stops behind her, warm breath tickling at the nape of Lena’s neck. It makes her flinch, and heats her cheeks up in a furious blush. “I _really_ am not good.”

“Bullshit.” She spits the word, and matches Kara’s smirk with a sneer of her own. She had plenty of time to practice under Lillian, and doesn’t need to check her face in a mirror to know it is disdainful. As cruel as the expression Kara wears. The effect is a bit lessened, since Kara’s still behind her, but Lena lets some of the contempt drip from her curved lips into her voice. “You could be, but you choose not to.” 

Silence stretches between them, heavier than a stone around her neck. The only thing Lena can hear is Kara’s ragged breath next to her ear. All she can feel is heat, rising in waves from Kara’s body and scorching her back despite the layers of her clothing. Kara burns, dark and beautiful, just the same way Krypton ended. Lena closes her eyes against the rising, unbearable heat, but she is unequipped to stop it. At her back, a planet dies. A whole screaming world is consumed to the last soul by fire, until only haunting memories remain. It’s a load she’s known Kara must have been carrying inside her, along with the guilt every survivor of a tragedy will face, but it was something buried. Deeply hidden.

Something Kara had been good at keeping locked away and out of sight, but the red kryptonite has sanded the subterfuge away and exposed the pain beneath. 

Lena feels herself grow dizzy with the realization, and accountable for the fact she never offered Kara a way to share the burden. Outwardly unbalanced, she stumbles as if drunk, and when her ankle bends at a strange angle tipping her to the side, she has barely time to wonder whether Kara will stop her fall or let her crash onto the carpet. 

In her mind it’s clear that she deserves the latter. 

Kara moves again, and her hand is around Lena’s lapels, jerking her back up. She doesn’t pull her any closer, but then again, she doesn’t need to. Lena is almost rendered senseless by the dominance of it. Every instinct is urging her to go limp and submit, and she has to employ all of her force of will not to. 

“Why do you so desperately want to believe Lex, but are so unwilling to give me the same courtesy?” Kara’s tone is soft - deceivingly playful. 

“People change.” Lena does her best to keep herself steady, but there’s a tremor in her voice she fails to cover. Kara’s hand on her coat is not unkind, and that, too, gives her some pause. This dark god could do to her what children do with animals sometimes. Lizards they trap under downturned glass jars only to watch them writhe fruitlessly before ripping their tails off, or snails melted with a pinch of salt out of boredom and a little sadism. 

Kara hasn’t raised a hand toward her - at least not yet. 

“People change,” Lena repeats, regaining some of her lost courage. “I mean, look at you.” Despair has her choking on the words. 

“Some things remain the same.” Kara’s hands move from her coat to her shoulders. The terrifying lack of expression on her face cracks momentarily, and grief starkly shines through. 

“Krypton is still gone, and its people scream inside my head. Day in and day out, they call for a salvation that won’t come.” Her voice falls to a pained whisper. “They ask why I was saved instead of them. What made _me_ worthy. I ask myself the same thing.” She blinks rapidly, and her red-rimmed eyes swim with something similar to tears. “So go ahead and explain to me again how things are _different_ , Lena.” 

Kara is hardening again, but for a fleeting moment, she appears absolutely human. Devastated by her loss. It’s enough to convince Lena that hope is not a foolish waste of time, and that the sleepless nights she spent trying to track her down haven't been for nothing. Hands still curved around her shoulders, Kara directs her to the couch and sits her down before taking a step back. 

“Poor little Lena.” She wags a finger right under her nose. “Stuck looking for a way to mend this. Trapped into working for a brother that is so far beneath you. Just as the rest of them are, really, but you’re too much of a coward to seize what’s yours by right!”

Lena stands, goaded into anger by Kara’s little speech. Perhaps it’s what the Kryptonian wants, maybe it’s a trap, but if that’s the case, she already walked right into it from the instant she stepped into the apartment.

“You know nothing about me or who I am!” Her brows settle into a glower. “In this world, we’ve never met before.” She combed through the news outlets and her personal accounts, until she’d been too nauseated to. Everything she’d managed to find out about Kara had ranged from bad to outright evil. She isn’t even a Danvers anymore - Eliza had disowned her after the first deaths that she had caused. 

“True,” Kara concedes, unaffected by her glare. “But I watched from afar what you accomplished. The research, the medical discoveries that could have saved thousands of lives. All of it gate-kept by your dear brother in the name of heartless profit, with you pretending that was not the case and smiling pretty for the camera.” 

She steps closer, close enough that their chests are almost touching. 

“So afraid to step out of Lex’s shadow, you preferred to see him as a saint. So much squandered potential,” Kara sneers, full of scorn. “But now you have the chance of a do-over, and I wonder: are you woman enough to take it? If what you said is true, you did back in your world.” She pulls the trench coat open with a flourish, and for the first time, Lena sees the holstered gun. “I could even offer you the means.” 

The pistol looks incongruous, resting like that on her hip, especially because she has no need of it. Lena can’t take her eyes away. It’s a Beretta, same model and caliber as the one she used when she shot Lex. If she didn’t know it wasn’t possible, Lena would say it’s the same gun. 

Her head snaps up, and she meets Kara’s amused gaze with wide-eyed shock. 

“What?” the Kryptonian chuckles. “Please don’t tell me you’re unsettled by the fact that I have a gun?” She leans forward, and her next words are brushed against Lena’s parted lips. “After all, there’s so many things I could do to you without one.”

Lena barely registers the words. If the Lex of this world was never killed, how would Kara have known what type of gun to bring her? How could she have guessed the manner of her brother’s death before Lena spilled her guts to her tonight? 

_I killed my brother for you!_ Lena is transported back in time, to the day she stole Myriad and caged Kara in the Fortress. She feels the cold biting her skin, and watches Kara’s face dissolve behind a veil of tears all over again. _Don’t you understand what you have done?_

The Kara of this Earth, she reasons, extricating herself from something that would be best forgotten, must be the same one Lena had thought lost, who just doesn’t remember as much as Lena does. 

_Or who has been made to forget_ , a small voice sows doubt inside her heart. Now, she just needs to find proof without ending up killed in the process. Which, considering how effortlessly this version of Kara gets beneath her skin, is easier said than done.

“Well?” Kara prods, holding the gun out to her, grip first. “Why won’t you say something? Super got your tongue?”

Before she can stop herself, Lena shoves Kara back. It’s like trying to push concrete, and yet, caught off guard, Kara drops the gun. It tumbles to the ground and Lena reflexively kicks out, sending it to skid somewhere across the room. 

“Kara, please, listen to yourself!” Lena wants to shut her eyes, cover her ears. Banish the malevolent thoughts Kara is putting into her head, which become more and more tempting by the minute. She does nothing of the sort. “You’re proposing that I kill my brother like it’s nothing! This isn’t you!” 

“No? Oh! I get it! You’d prefer the sniveling one you had, who’d ask you to forgive her on her knees.” Kara lunges forward, pushing roughly into the space Lena is occupying, forcing her back a step. Again, the reaction of her body is disarming: heat travels down her spine with the power of live wires sizzling on the ground. She’s petrified by fear, and horrified to find herself attracted to what Kara has become. “I’m afraid you’re out of luck. She isn’t home.” The dark god grins as though she's the sole party to a delicious kind of secret. Like she can hear Lena's desire in each heartbeat that punches - raw and red and savage - against her ribcage. 

“Kara…” 

“Do you think the pain you’ve been through, and what you’re allegedly going through right now, make you special, Lena? Spoiler alert. They don’t. Everyone goes through shit, so get over yourself. You’re afraid of people leaving, I get that. You’re scared that the control is slipping away from you.” Kara inches closer, until Lena’s cornered with nowhere left to go. Nowhere else to look but into those blue eyes, ringed in red, which have never been this cruel. “But people leave. Life happens, choices are made.” The godlet’s voice falls to a grating whisper, her mouth bent into a downward rictus. “Sometimes people are taken from you. Sometimes _your entire world_ , and all you can do is accept you have no control over it.” 

“How fucking hypocritical of you,” Lena bites back, throwing caution out the nearest window. “You’re whining about your losses, and using that as the excuse you hide behind for your misdeeds. The world’s going to shit anyway, so why should you bother trying to better it at all?” She’s practically screaming by the end of her tirade, short of temper and of breath. “I think you haven’t accepted shit, and I think the havoc you have caused is just a tantrum. You’ve been throwing a fit for years, but what you really want is help. You want to fix this, and fix yourself, but admitting that you do, comes with the responsibility of the suffering you’ve caused. And you’re afraid of that, aren’t you?” She pokes a finger right into the middle of the fallen hero's chest, and defying logic and reason, Kara actually _winces_. 

Her recovery is so fast that Lena actually believes the involuntary twitch had been imagined, but a shadow of the hurt her words have caused lingers deep in Kara’s eyes, dimming the red coals that glow within her pupils.

Lena has no time to dwell on it any further; a moment later, Kara is on her, breath spilling hot and urgent against her cheek. Where that dampness touches, Lena’s skin lights up, tingling with the aching warmth of too much sunlight. As the world around them comes to a sudden stop, she becomes keenly aware of how close to her Kara is standing. The nearness is disorienting, and Lena tears her eyes away, struggling to acclimate. Kara strikes then, faster than a scorpion lunging from the sand - she must have been waiting for Lena’s momentary lapse.

“I _think_ -” A hand slides up Lena’s back, and lodges firmly in her hair. “I think that for all your obsession with control, you’ve been waiting for somebody to take that away from you. I think that’s why you’ve gone through all this trouble, spending your nights looking for me. You want me to strip everything away…” She tugs at Lena’s hair tenderly enough to make her want to weep, and her head follows the motion, baring her throat to Kara’s teeth. Her knees give way, and the only thing keeping her upright is Kara’s hand twined in her hair. Kara’s hand, searing her scalp like a firebrand. “You want me to do all the dark, twisted things you’re too afraid to admit to out loud.”

The hold Kara has on her skull tightens, nails scratching at the nape her neck, fingers jerking her head up and down in mute agreement. 

“I can do all that and more.” Kara’s lips flutter briefly on her exposed pulse. “If you just beg me to.” 

“You...don’t know shit.” 

Lena fights to regain her lost composure, but her body is waging battle against her. She’s dazed and heated up, cunt wet and clenching around nothing. Little tremors shake her thighs every few seconds, and all she can do is croak those words out, in one last-ditch effort at defiance. 

“I can smell the slick dripping from you, Lena.” Kara’s warm breath skates higher, along her jaw. “I can hear how fast your heart is beating.” She lets her go, so suddenly that Lena has no choice but to stumble into her and throw one arm around her well muscled shoulders to avoid tumbling to the floor. Kara’s shit-eating grin is hungry and all-too-knowing. “And I can tell it’s not racing in fear.”

 _Fuck her_ , but she’s right. Lena _is_ tired. Tired of looking for meaning in a world that’s lost all sense. Tired of wondering about Lex, and whether she’s the only thing that stands between him and absolute control. She’s beyond tired - she’s bone weary and exhausted, and so very enticed by the prospect of letting Kara do what she so readily has promised.

Internally, Lena is in turmoil. The riot started quietly, the instant her gaze locked with Kara’s crimson-tinted one. This is a Kara she’s seldom, if ever, seen before. Fierce and untempered, unchecked and uncompromising, she runs wild and sets the world alight. Sets Lena on fire, too - every breath she’s taken in her presence is a swallow of burning gasoline.

“Don’t be crude,” she tries, weakly. “It’s not becoming.” 

“It’s the truth.” Kara’s eyes have darkened further. Their blue is subdued, veering to cloud-grey, but the red cracks on her skin shine a brighter red. She looks at Lena as though she can see through her clothes - and on second thought that may be exactly what she’s doing - her expression famished. 

Lena sees an opportunity. A crazy, half-cocked way to test her theory. A plan that requires her to get close to the fallen god again, and _much_ more intimate. She can’t ignore the thrill that rushes through her at the prospect. 

“And what about your truth?” she asks, daring to edge within the range of Kara’s hands. The little despot could cast her down or lift her up, but either way Lena is sure her expression would remain unbothered. She needs a way to pierce through this apparent state of boredom. In this precise moment, Lena is the bomb-squad, but instead of defusing the situation, she’s blindly tinkering with it and praying it’ll set the explosion off. 

“I think you’re lonely,” she continues, mimicking Kara’s previous tone. “And that’s why you came here. Everyone is beneath you - you said so yourself - but you came here tonight regardless, hoping that I’m not. You’re bored of sitting at the top alone, aren’t you, Kara?” 

“ _Alone_?” Kara roars with laughter. She shakes with it until red tears leak from the corners of her eyes. “I could have any bitch I want.” 

“Liar,” Lena chastises, turning herself into the stern headmistress that’s disappointed with her favorite, her brightest pupil. “I don’t need abhuman powers to smell the loneliness on you. I could remedy that - and in turn I’d let you do all the dark, sadistic things everyone else is too scared to even dream about.” She lays down the false Royal Flush with the best poker face she has, fully aware that should Kara call the bluff - peer right into the terror biting like barbed wire around her spine - she’s dead. “Unless you really are just talk.” 

Between them, her hand falls to Kara’s crotch, and Lena squeezes - hard. 

It’s as though she’s switched Kara on and off at the mains. 

She becomes the echo of a thunderclap, a fire that devours. She is the avalanche that fills the climbers’ gullet with snow and buries them alive. A rabid beast, foaming at the mouth, and when she grabs Lena by both wrists and bodily throws her into the nearby wall, there are no calls for mercy left. No quarter. 

Outside, lightning forks through the milling clouds again, and the reckoning is swiftly underway.

Lena’s summoned it, she has no room to complain. Still, she’s unequipped to handle Kara at her worst. Woefully unprepared, and therein lies the delicious wickedness of it. 

As the back of her head hits the wall, rebounding with the whiplash hard enough the chords of her neck crack, Lena is reaved of all control. She’s picked apart, torn at the seams, and the removal of her clothes becomes perfunctory after that. A function that is necessary to move the proceedings along, and one she lets Kara perform without resisting. 

Lena wouldn’t want to if she could. 

She’s still reeling from the pain - it throbs inside her head with each labored inhale - and yet, somehow, it’s a sharpening tool for her arousal. 

The pounding in her head is repeated down below, between her thighs, which Lena can feel running with slick. 

“So wet already,” Kara purrs into her ear. Lena’s bracketed between her lean body and the wall, held by the throat. There’s nowhere she could flee to, but also nowhere else she’d rather be. When Kara rubs against the flaring of her hip, big and swollen and rock-hard, Lena’s thighs part further, arousal flowing from her to pool down at her feet. She’s a living, breathing ruin, charred within by loss of hope with her insides in full view. Gutted by Kara’s unrelenting force, like the remains of the buildings that were once part of the city’s silhouette. 

But Kara doesn’t stop - she will not stop until Lena has surrendered, until she’s hoisted the white flag and given Kara all she wants. Perhaps she won’t stop even then - _to hell_ with the Geneva Conventions and _fuck_ prisoners of war.

The chokehold tightens, her windpipe slowly crushed in the god’s relentless grasp. Air is forced out of her lungs, and she deflates along with them, her vision blackened at the edges. Inside, she’s strangely calm. It’s anticlimactic, really, the linear, ordered way her thoughts are moving. 

Lena’s always wanted this: to be demeaned, to be made nothing. To exist in the vacuum left by the absence of control, without being made ashamed of it. For years, the secret has been kept under lock and key, but all Kara needed to do to bring it to the light was blow away the dust that covered it . 

Kara is the goddess she swears obeisance to, and she the sacrifice.

“Anything I want,” Kara murmurs, before nipping lilac bruises on her neck. “You meant it?” Her eyes when they meet Lena’s are almost vulnerable. 

“Anything.” The godlet’s fingers dip into the mess at the crux of Lena’s thighs, and the word becomes a moan. “You can listen to my heartbeat. You know I didn’t lie.” 

“You didn’t.” 

The slap is sudden. It whips her head around, is hard enough to split her lip. Adrenaline spikes inside her blood, and when her lip is gently sucked, the scarlet droplets licked away by a warm tongue, Lena is left ravenous for more. 

Kara must have read some of that hunger on her face, because Lena is lifted, carried over to the couch and made to bend over the back of it, ass up into the air. Her feet are kicked further apart, and she’s kept in position by Kara’s hand, dominantly clasped around her nape. 

“Look at you.” Kara’s other hand falls flat against her ass, again and again and again, until the skin there is red and tingly. “I’ll make you my whore," she swears, darkly. "A bride fit for the House of El.” _There it is_ \- the yawning loneliness again. A single quivering note layering her promise. Lena had been right, but as Kara starts to hit her upturned cheeks in earnest, that feels like very little consolation. 

Teeth gritted, grinding into fine powder, Lena arches into the pain of it despite herself. It blossoms, warm and stinging on her flesh, and travels up her spine in waves, bowing it at the angle of submission. It makes her weak in the knees and humiliated, and when Kara unexpectedly mixes things up, thrusting two fingers into her cunt, Lena cries out in surprise. 

It takes only a stroke, one brush against the small, hypersensitive spot on her front wall, and Lena’s coming - ashamed, red-faced and teary eyed. 

“Whore,” Kara says in sing-song voice, pushing a third finger through her rippling opening. “Bitch. _Slut_.” The words fall on Lena’s back like the lashes from a single tail, and as a second climax is ripped from her, she starts to cry in earnest. 

“More,” she gurgles when she’s got breath enough to talk. “ _More_.” 

Even though what Kara is doing to her is horrific and obscene, Lena is craving it with an intensity that borders on insane. Her ass - she can already tell - will be black and blue come morning, her teeth have clipped her lower lip and reopened the cut there. Her cunt is aching with the roughness of Kara’s hand, but the ordeal is overall cathartic. The agony of having her interior walls torn down, brick by bloody brick, is something that she’d struggle putting into words if asked, but the instant the beating and the fucking stop - when she’s nothing more than a slackened bag of bones heaving for air - Lena finds rebirth. 

It is true then, what she’s heard people wiser than she is say about a loved one. Their absence sharpens love into the sort of pining that fills each breath with pain. Their presence strengthens love, its frayed ties recast in hardier stuff. 

And love is what is clearly written now in the softening of the angry god behind her. 

Slow and methodical, Kara pulls her fingers out, her other hand curved around her hip to steady her. She turns Lena around, and capturing her parted, cracked lips, draws her into a kiss. 

Lena has no cognition that they’re moving, but she finds herself sitting on the couch, astride the fallen angel’s hips. Kara is still dressed - another humiliating thing that tips the scales well in her favor - but she’s done something with the front of the suit, and when she pulls Lena down on top of her, the blunt head of her cock bumps against her dripping labia. 

“ _Fuck_.” 

Kara thrusts up, Lena sinks down, and the joining of their bodies is too much to bear. The connection between them is as searing as the electricity that fills the air outside, and the fine hairs on the back of Lena’s neck are standing on edge. 

Kara has her by the neck again, but she is no longer the sole administrator of the bruising. Lena grabs the godlet's face between her hands and tilts it up, nails scratching at skin the red kryptonite has momentarily softened. That fragility will go once the fog of sex has lifted, but she treasures it for what it is, and etches the most important part of her right on Kara’s cheekbones. She may be the tyrant’s whore, but Kara is hers, too, and the entire world will know. Her tongue slips into Kara’s mouth, and the kiss goes from slow to frenzied in a flash. It’s a feral, brooding type of love that they are sharing here tonight, the kind of love which leaves one in bed, stiff-legged and worse for wear. 

Kara’s hips jerk into hers again, and this time, she slams in to the hilt. It’s suffering and bliss, and all the gradients in between. Lena moans in Kara’s mouth, the sound consumed and swallowed as soon as it is born. 

“There you are,” Kara hisses when Lena’s clawing fingers finally draw blood. “The dark part of you.” The god looks at her in round-eyed adoration, and the roles are overturned - from worshipper, to worshipped. “Were you not tired of keeping in control?” 

“Yes,” Lena admits with lips pulled back and hips rolling into a lazy figure eight. “I was.”

“Don’t hold back then,” Kara encourages, before she tugs her down for another bruising kiss. “Let the darkness out.” 

She wants to, and is terribly afraid of that desire. She’s held herself at bay for many years, aware of the havoc the temper of a Luthor wreaks when uncontrolled. If she lets loose now, will she be able to reel it back in? Will she manage to put it back in quarantine? 

“Let go," Kara grates against her cheek, stealing the last vestige of her control through a finger up her ass. For a fraction of a second her body rebels, but there's so much slick between them that Kara needs to push only a little, and after a brief resistance, Lena's tightest hole is blissfully violated. "I promise not to tell." Kara's teasing laugh is cut short the moment Lena starts to ride her. 

Many things can be said of a Luthor - she thinks with a pinch of black humor as Kara makes a strangled sound, high and breathy in pitch. Many things _have_ been said, and most of them unflattering, but no one ever questioned her family's commitment.

And by whatever gods are prayed to on this Earth, Lena intends to show Kara just what she has awoken. 

The pace she sets is punishing, relentless, the wet slap of their hips the counterpart to their perfect swan song. Right about now, the world outside her window could be ending, but Lena doesn't care. She only cares for the burning stretch, for the hand that paws her breasts and twists her nipples like she’s an iron-wrought puzzle to be pulled apart and solved. For the fullness that obfuscates her senses, which has her tumbling into another, earth-shattering release when Kara’s knot swells at her entrance and is worked inside of her by gravity and friction.

This time, Kara comes with her, sharp-toothed and bleary-eyed. The knot clicks into place, Lena’s walls spasming around it and milking Kara for everything she’s worth. 

She has a lot to give, thick jets of come that flood in Lena’s sex and well beyond. Most of the effusion is kept inside, but there’s so much of it that some leaks out and dribbles on the leather of the couch. 

Kara lets out an agonized cry, head falling back to expose the column of her throat. Afterward, Lena won’t be able to say what possessed her into making such a snap decision, but she leans in and bites down. The godlet’s moans of pleasure become a startled yelp of pain, and the shroud of her divinity is shredded into nothing. 

Everything she is, everything she ever was, lingers like a bitter aftertaste on Lena’s tongue, and as she laps up the blood she has brought forth, she gets little snippets of the Kara that was. 

And it is _her_ Kara, just as she’d supposed - soft-eyed and smiling brighter than the dawn. No amount of pain can erase that; the red mists of the kryptonite are parted, and although it’s nothing more than a reprieve, Lena’s seen enough. 

Now she knows exactly what she’s fighting for. 

When Kara nuzzles into her in turn, Lena knows what’s coming. She offers her throat willingly, and as pain and mind-numbing pleasure mix inside her body, binds herself to Kara.

**************************

It’s some time past dawn when she regains her senses. She’s sprawled out on the couch, with Kara snoring something next to her. The contrast with the being who could tear her limb from limb is jarring, and Lena has to press a hand to her mouth to stifle the beginnings of a laugh. 

She’s sore and bruised everywhere, but instead of taking stock of her own aches, she spends what precious time she has to study Kara. 

Sometime after she passed out, the one who’s now her mate removed her own clothes, and now slumbers on her stomach, one arm curled possessively around Lena’s midriff. The mating bite is a purple, ugly thing on her, but Lena also notes that the veins of red in the surrounding area seem to have retreated. It may mean everything or nothing, but she’s too drained for speculation. The mirror bite on her own neck, she willfully ignores. 

Thanking hindsight for a couch big enough to accomodate them both, Lena inches closer, eyes following the curve of Kara’s spine. She’s not completely sure what she is looking for, but she finds it on the nape of her neck, right where her hairline starts. 

A faded scar, surgical in nature. Something that would not be possible without robbing Kara of her powers first. Lena lifts a hand, and moving with care, fingers the spot. Yes, there’s definitely a foreign object beneath the healed up wound. 

“Hmmm.” Kara stirs with a grumble, and Lena swiftly turns her gesture into a caress down the expanse of her back. A sated rumble greets the act, then Kara pushes up onto one elbow and pulls her closer. 

“We could go for round two.” She nips at Lena’s jaw, before nosing at the mating bite. “I want to fill you up again.” 

Lena draws a breath, doing her best to relegate the abrupt tightening of her cunt to the basement of her mind. 

“We could.” She cards a hand through Kara’s sweat-streaked hair and pulls her down until they rest forehead to forehead. Her eyes seem a bit bluer this morning, but perhaps it’s only wishful thinking. “But we need to talk about Lex first.” 

Because some things have changed, but a few fundamental ones are still the same. Her brother is the only one with the knowledge and the means to do this thing to Kara, and the fact that Lena has found no trace of her old project may well mean it’s already in effect. That would actually explain why Alex follows Lex around like a trained pup, eager to please. 

“What about him?” Kara rubs their noses together in a way that’s so reminiscent of her old self, Lena has to blink back tears. Above her, her mate affects disinterest, but her lips are pursed in thought and Lena knows she has her full attention. 

“The things you said last night-” Lena smiles the detached grin of the executioner relishing the thought of the falling axe. “Color me _intrigued_ …” 

**Author's Note:**

> join me[ on Tumblr](https://kendrene.tumblr.com/) for more gay nonsense!


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